The Crafting Of The Snake Charmer
by The Big LeBamski
Summary: The story of Bill's life from his training with Hattori Hanzo onwards. Mature rating for potential content of later chapters.
1. Chapter 1

_**Author's Note:** Hi. Welcome to my first fanfic of Kill Bill or anything else. This note is mainly to say I can't promise exceptionally regular updates to this story, as I will basically write when I feel inspired enough. I will try my hardest to keep adding new chapters as often as possible however. Thanks, and I hope you enjoy the story..._

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"Your training begins in 15 minutes! Be ready!" The double hand-clap that accompanied this command awoke Bill by initiating a dull ache with sharp pangs in his head. He didn't want to train today. Actually, that was a lie. He wanted to train every day, until he was satisfied. And he wouldn't be satisfied until he was the best. But right now, his eyes bleary, the shafts of light darting through the mangled Venetian blind over the window paining them with every beat of his heart, and now what felt like a nuclear war raging within his skull, he just felt like rolling over and staying in his bed. The night before had been yet another heavy session of drinking, partying and general debauchery, and Bill was more than a little hung over.

He hadn't always been like this. When he had first come to Okinawa for his training as a samurai Hattori Hanzo had described him as one of the most eager and most potential-filled students he had ever encountered, and considering his lengthy and illustrious career as a teacher, and indeed his ancestry, that was quite a compliment. Bill had indeed been keen to learn. In his first year of training in the art of the samurai sword Bill had made roughly as much progress as you would expect an average student to make in three, and after only eighteen months Hanzo-San had deemed him worthy to own a sword crafted by him, an honour and responsibility that had been known to take up to seven years to earn, and usually no less than five.

Bill had most certainly been an adolescent prodigy when Hanzo-San first started teaching him just after his sixteenth birthday. But that was now nearly four years ago, and Bill was becoming more and more restless and impatient. Esteban had warned him before he left Acuna that if he truly wanted to become the world's best killer that he would have to cool his head and learn to gain a modicum of patience, especially if he wanted to gain the tutelage in swordsmanship of the legendary Hattori Hanzo. He had been happy to let Bill go and pursue his ambitions, but he told Bill that if he came back to him having given up on what he intended to pursue simply because of his impatience, then Esteban would disown him and he would no longer be welcome in Acuna, and nor would Buddy.

Now Bill had always been a stubborn son-of-a-bitch, even at fifteen years old, so although he didn't care what Esteban threatened him with, despite knowing it would be better to have Esteban on his side, he wasn't about to let his then-toddler half-brother be thrown out onto the streets with him. In Mexico that would almost certainly mean death for a teenage boy and his child brother or, if they were lucky, a life of struggling to survive until Bill could get a shitty job to support them both. But Bill wasn't going to have a shitty job. He was going to be disgustingly rich - he had decided that from a very young age. He was going to be one of those people to whom money was irrelevant. Plus, even if he almost never showed it, he loved his half-brother. Hell, Buddy was the only blood relative Bill had, or at least knew of.

Bill also cared deeply for Esteban, who had been a father to him for as long as he remembered. True, a sleazy pimping highly criminal father, but a father nonetheless, and someone Bill looked up to and respected. So he had vowed then and there, to Esteban, to Buddy and to himself, that he would not let his impatience and his temper get in the way of the life he wanted.

That vow had progressively become harder and harder to keep. After the first two years or so of his training, Bill's progress had slowed down. This was nothing to do with his skill, as Bill was a truly breathtaking swordsman and had the potential to become one of the greatest ever to wield a Hanzo sword. It was precisely because Hattori Hanzo recognised the young man's potential. Hanzo's entire life had been about the way of the samurai.

Before becoming the ultimate master craftsman of katanas and swordsmanship tutor, Hattori Hanzo had fought in battles, in duels, he had cut through anything and everything that came up against him, and had prevailed every single time. He was one of the few truly great samurai warriors in history to retire from combat without any major or chronic injuries. When Hanzo held a sword it was like a part of his body. He wasn't holding the sword – he was the sword. And in Bill he saw a reflection of himself. The American teenager was one of the most adept at this deadly art Hanzo had ever seen.

Upon realising this Hanzo had decided straight away that he was going to teach Bill differently to all of those he had taught before. He had pushed Bill as hard as possible from his very first training session, and Bill had come right back at him meeting every challenge head-on and advancing at a phenomenal rate. After gaining his Hanzo sword, which often signified the end of a student's teaching, Bill's teacher had begun to take him up to a level beyond what most students are even capable of. In essence he was training a man who could be the equivalent of Hattori Hanzo. In the Hanzo family this training was generally reserved for the eldest son of the current Hattori Hanzo, but our Hattori had never had any children. Bill was to be his way of carrying on his legacy.

This extended training was to Bill, however, highly exasperating. He had been told that Hanzo's guidance in samurai usually took around six years, although there had been those who had spent over a decade learning under him. In Bill's typically arrogant manner however he had estimated it would only take him around half that time, being done with his training after three years maximum. Once he had earned his Hanzo sword Bill was happy that he seemed to be progressing according to his calculations. But the one time that Bill had expressed a desire to end his training, around nine months ago, Hanzo-San's reaction had surprised him so much that he had not mentioned it again since.

Hanzo had seemed physically shocked by Bill's desire to stop training and had been unable to train him for most of the day because of how shaken the idea had made him. Bill had not seen him again until the evening, when Hanzo-San had come to him almost pleading with him to stay on as his student, a surreal experience for Bill who was used to seeing Hanzo as a man of stone with little emotion, and who had had him in a position more than once during his training where he could have ended Bill's life with a flick of his wrist. Hanzo had told Bill of the mass of untapped potential he still saw in him, and told Bill that no matter how good he was now he could get even better if he allowed Hanzo to train him further.

He didn't tell Bill everything that he saw in him however, and certainly didn't say anything about Bill having the potential to carry on his own work. Over the three years or so he had trained Bill by then, he had more than got to realise the extent of Bill's egotism. This young man already thought he was God's gift to any number of things in this world; he certainly didn't need to be told, by his infamous teacher no less, that he could add being a samurai to that list.

So, his ego suitably stroked, and despite feeling an urge to move on in his ambitions, Bill had said he would stay. As his master had seemed so genuinely shocked by his suggestion of departure he even told Hanzo-San that his idea of leaving had only been a frivolous one and not something he had been seriously considering – a total lie, but a white one. Bill did have his caring side even if it only rose to the surface once every few blue moons.

Hanzo's training shifted onto very particular areas of samurai swordplay, meaning that he and Bill would often spend days or even weeks perfecting one technique or style. In his heart Bill knew why this kind of training was necessary, but that didn't stop his head finding it to be one of the most maddening things he'd ever experienced. For a good six months he'd kept his mind in check and listened to his heart. He'd also kept in mind his promise to Esteban and Buddy, and not least himself, that he would see through his training despite his general bad humour.

Around two and a half months ago cracks had begun to form in this façade. Hanzo had noticed this, but was determined to continue training the man he now believed was the greatest pupil he had ever taught. Nobody had ever even come close to the level Bill was now at, but in Hanzo's eyes he still had a way to go until he was as good as he could possibly be, which was in many ways a very scary fact. So Hattori Hanzo pressed on with Bill, despite seeing the renewed aggravation his student was clearly feeling.

Then, during a night-time training session on the roof of Hanzo's dojo Bill had almost lost it entirely at his master. If he had not grabbed at that surge of anger and forcibly pulled it back at least one of the men on the roof that night would almost certainly have been killed. But instead Bill held himself back. Hanzo could see the rage in the eyes of his pupil, despite the only light being that of the moon, and had wisely said that his training was done for the day. Bill forced the pleasantries a disciple was expected to show his master at the start and end of a lesson and then made his way down from the roof and away from Hanzo's dojo, his home. He did not returned for two days.

Hanzo did not worry about Bill in the two days he was gone; in his heart he knew there was an outside chance the young man would never come back, and if he did it could be a long time till he saw him again. He also knew it was likely that Bill just needed some time to cool off his fiery temperament. So when Bill returned in the afternoon two days after he had left the roof Hanzo was relatively pleased. Of course he didn't show this, reprimanding Bill for deserting his training and his teacher.

Since coming to Hanzo Bill had not missed more than a day's training, and the only time that had happened was during the episode nine months ago. The most he had missed other than that was half a day at the most for things like his birthday or if Hanzo-San needed to go away for whatever reason, and even then Bill would train by himself. Bill took his scolding very well, better than his teacher had expected. In fact, since then Bill had been a lot more relaxed in general. This pleased Hanzo, but what didn't please him was that Bill had also begun going out drinking on a regular basis.

For the past six weeks Bill had been out at least three nights every week, regularly more than that. Hanzo had no idea who Bill was drinking with. Whenever he would ask Bill would simply reply that he was just seeing friends. Now Hanzo knew Bill did have friends in Okinawa, but not many; his rigorous training schedule of the past four years or so had hardly given him a wealth of opportunities for socialising. The handful of friends he had made were also martial arts and weaponry students of the few other teachers in the area. Most of the people who lived there didn't know it, but Okinawa was a hotbed of warrior training activity.

Hanzo was sceptical of who Bill might be drinking with, and there were a few possibilities that he didn't even dare think about; but Bill's new socialising, when he wasn't hung over, had seemed to renew Bill's enthusiasm for his training. So for now he had decided to let it go.

Last night had been a particularly intense drinking sessions for Bill and his "friends". Bill just wanted to hug the pillow over his eyes and ears and stay where he was. But he knew that Hanzo wouldn't accept a hangover as an excuse for missing training, and he didn't much relish the idea of Hanzo dragging him out of bed and across the wooden floor, then threatening to throw him down the steep wooden staircase as he had done once or twice before. That was not the best way to fend off a sore head and eyes. So Bill dragged himself up from his bed and began to prepare himself for another day's frustratingly precise training.


	2. Chapter 2

Once washed and dressed Bill made his way down the steep wooden steps that led from his sleeping quarters to the hallway of Hanzo-San's home, Hanzo sword in hand. Despite Hanzo's notoriety in his field, his home was far from showy. The walls were bare plaster with black-and-white photos framed in black-coloured wood of various warriors, some respected piers, others former students, dotted regularly here and there. Aside from these there was little else that wasn't necessary. Each doorway was either covered by a bead curtain or a simple wooden door, or in a few cases both.

Hanzo was not a poor man; but, he did what he did not for money but for love of the samurai tradition. True, a Hanzo sword, despite its status as a priceless weapon by those who owned or desired one, did have to have a price put on it by its creator, and this price was not usually low. But Hattori Hanzo lived a simple life for two reasons: firstly, flaunting the wealth he had accumulated from years as a master sword smith would attract unwanted attention to what he did; and secondly, aside from being a man who would go down in history as one of the greatest samurais to ever live, Hattori Hanzo was a man of simple pleasures and simple needs.

Hanzo didn't find pleasure or satisfaction in material wealth. His passions were combat and craftsmanship, and they had been since he was a child. The first thing he remembered making in his life was a set of pan pipes from bamboo stalks he had found at a riverside when he was six years old. Most children would have been satisfied by breaking off part of the stalk and it making a noise when they blew down it. But Hanzo had spent days crafting his pipes, checking the sound over and over and trimming the pipe he was working on as necessary until he was satisfied that the sound produced was exactly high enough above the previous one.

Those pipes had also been the cause of the first fight Hanzo remembered being a part of. Another boy called Saburo, who had lived down the road from Hanzo and his family and was around a year older than him, had snatched the pipes and begun to fool around with them. When young Hattori had protested and tried to get them back Saburo had begun taunting him and then threw the pipes into the path of a passing horse drawn carriage. The pipes were destroyed under hoof and wheel, and Hattori Hanzo had been extremely upset, not to mention brimming with rage at Saburo. Hanzo beat him so hard that Saburo had to miss a month of school and had permanent scarring on most of the right side of his face.

The previous generation's Hattori Hanzo, our Hanzo's father – a skilled samurai, but by this point retired from combat due to injury – had scolded his son for attacking Saburo but also recognised the colossal desire for battle that burned within his offspring. Hattori may have only been six years old, but he had attacked a child bigger than himself with the manner of a man and the spirit of a warrior. The older Hattori Hanzo was a distinguished samurai in his time, but he was nowhere near as accomplished as his son was destined to become, a fact he could not know that at this point. He did however recognise his son as a gifted fighter, and therefore made the decision to begin training our Hanzo in martial arts nearly two years earlier than was the custom in the Hanzo family, the tradition being for training to begin the day after the son's eighth birthday. A week after he had mangled Saburo's face, Hattori Hanzo begun his first real combat training with his father.

Bill may have come from a starkly different background to that of his teacher, but he showed more promise than anyone else had since Hanzo-San's training was completed. Maybe his life in Acuna was what had made him so impatient; maybe it was also what made him so determined to be the best at everything.

One time, when Bill could only have been seven or eight years old, Esteban had set him and another aspiring Acuna boy of a similar age named Max the task of going into the woodland and capturing and killing the largest animal they could each find. Bill had enjoyed this activity immensely, and bagged himself a coyote. He had been irate however when Esteban had given what Bill certainly considered to be more praise to Max for also bringing back a coyote. Bill couldn't stand it, especially as he was positive his coyote was bigger. Esteban could see Bill was unhappy, but insisted the contest was a draw. Bill did not stop bugging him until Esteban agreed to a rematch. So the two boys went back into the forest, again on the hunt for the largest animal they could detain and butcher. Max did not bring anything back to Esteban. Bill brought back Max.

These two conflicting traits were now clashing within Bill more than ever before. He wanted to train, he really did, as he knew that Hanzo-San, the greatest samurai trainer in the world, believed he was capable of becoming even better, and if the way to unlock that ability was through more training, then that was what he had to do. The precision and monotony of what he and his master now engaged in every day really got to him however.

For the past two weeks Hattori had made Bill come at him aiming at his master's waist down. Hanzo would then block the move in the same way each time, and Bill had to counter that move as best he could. Each time Hanzo would tell Bill the positive and negative points of what he had done. Bill was also not allowed to use the same counter twice in one day. Every time Hanzo deemed a responding move too similar to one already performed Bill would have to perform twenty press-ups.

As Bill walked into the dojo, round the corner and at the end of the hallway, he dreaded another day of cataloguing in his mind which moves he had already used against his master. This prospect was made even less appealing by the timpani section that had apparently decided that inside his head was the best place for them to rehearse.

"I am impressed Bill", said Hanzo with a wry grin, speaking of course in Japanese, as Bill appeared in the doorway. "I had not banked on seeing you within the time limit I imposed". Bill said nothing, but bowed to his master, respecting both him and the room despite how he was feeling. "Now, countering a low blocked move --". Bill let out an audible sigh of exasperation at the mention of this particular exercise. His master eyed him for a few seconds. Hanzo would not have allowed many of his past students get away with that kind of thing, but then Bill was nothing like any of his past students. "Before I was cut off in such a rude fashion", he continued, "I was about to suggest that maybe we should move on to a different exercise, as I am sufficiently happy for now with the progress you have made in that area".

Bill perked up slightly at hearing his training would be shifting to a new field, but only slightly. "Hanzo-San, I would be very grateful for the opportunity to move on in my training", Bill spoke in fluent Japanese to his master. "I too feel that, for the time being certainly, I have reached my peak in what we have been practising for the last few weeks". "What you feel is of no concern to me Bill" Hanzo replied matter-of-factly. "Your training will move on to an area which no warrior can afford to overlook – endurance". Bill was genuinely intrigued. Since gaining his Hanzo sword, the vast majority of his training had not been in any area as broad as this, usually focussing on something much more specific. His eagerness was renewed, and his hangover even seemed to be beginning to subside.

"Stand ready to fight" commanded the teacher to his student. Bill stood with his sword in front of him, both hands on the handle, the tip of the blade towards where his opponent would be, or in this case, where Hanzo was. "Now", Hanzo continued, walking out of the dojo for a few moments via a second door which led to the kitchen, but continuing talking throughout, "this exercise may seem unorthodox, but it is one used by my father whilst he trained me, and by his father when training him. No doubt you remember the exercise I made you perform to teach you the value of preparedness".

Bill did indeed remember this exercise. It was around a year into his training. Hanzo had made him stand in the position he was standing in now for an entire morning. Hanzo had sat in the dojo with him the whole time reading a newspaper. Bill had met that challenge directly, and although the top half of his body had ached for the next two days, he had not shown any sign of fatigue or frustration throughout the time he had been standing there. Hanzo-San had not made it known to Bill back then, but he was thoroughly impressed. Most students had simply not been able to stand in the same position for more than a couple of hours. Certainly none of them had lasted for as long as Bill had, which was a good six hours. Even then he only stopped because Hanzo had told his pupil he was satisfied.

Hanzo-San returned to the dojo holding something behind his back. "This exercise is not unlike that one". He then revealed what he was hiding: a cantaloupe. Bill was a little perplexed, but said nothing. "You will also need to use one of the blunter swords. A cantaloupe will not stay on steel crafted by me for more than a few minutes". Bill suddenly realised what Hanzo-San was intending for him to do, at least he thought he did, despite how ludicrous it sounded to him. "Are you saying that I am going to be standing here the whole morning with a melon on the end of my sword?" "Only for three or four hours at the most" his master replied, as if that was a question he heard daily. "I will tell you when you may stop".

Hanzo walked over to the sword rack and picked a very basic looking blade. He then went back over to Bill. "Give me your sword". Bill did as he was told, and Hanzo gave him the sword from the rack. "Return to your fighting stance". Bill did so, but with a noticeably smaller amount of enthusiasm than he had done it with a few minutes ago. Hanzo then took the cantaloupe and jammed it onto the end of the blade. "Stay in that position until I tell you otherwise".

And with that, Hanzo replaced Bill's sword into its case and set it down on the table by the wall of the dojo. He then walked back to the kitchen and returned to the training room with his newspaper, sat down on the chair by the table and proceeded to read about whatever was going on in the world that day. Bill stood there in the ready position, sword in his hands, and a melon on his sword. Needless to say, all sorts of thoughts were circulating within his mind.


End file.
